I cannot tell how far it might have been in your
power to prevent that. It is not my place to blame, or even to question
your conduct."
"You are an uncommonly dutiful daughter," Mr. Nowell exclaimed with
rather a bitter laugh; "I thought that you would have repudiated me
altogether perhaps; would have taken your tone from my father, who has
grown pig-headed with old age, and cannot forgive me for having had the
aspirations of a gentleman."
"It is a pity there should not be union between my grandfather and you at
such a moment as this," Marian said.
"O, we are civil enough to each other. I bear no malice against the old
man, though many sons in my position might consider themselves hardly
used. And now I may as well go upstairs and pay my respects. Why is not
your husband with you, by the bye?"
"He is not wanted here; and I do not even know that he is in London."
"Humph! He seems rather a mysterious sort of person, this husband of
yours."
Marian took no notice of this remark, and the father and daughter went
upstairs to the sick-room together. The old silversmith received his son
with obvious coolness, and was evidently displeased at seeing Marian and
her father together.
Percival Nowell, however, on his part, appeared to be in an unusually
affectionate and dutiful mood this evening.
Pages:
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307